EADA Rubirosa
by fadedelegance
Summary: Sequel to "First Date". Connie has her first trial after being promoted to EADA. T for language. Romance, friendship, humor, and trial scenes abound!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC own "Law and Order". I don't. **

**A/N****: This story is the fifth installment in my little series. The first three were "Nothing", "Admit It", "Newly-Attached", and "First Date". Connie's new partner, Allison Barclay, is an OC of mine. The first part is just everyone at a bar chatting and some cute and funny M/C moments. The second part is Connie's first trial as EADA. And in regards to Connie's promotion, let's face it: she could TOTALLY handle it. I mean, remember when she and Mike had to be on opposite sides of the Dresner case, and she was totally kicking his ass for the majority of the proceedings? She's just as good an attorney as he is, so she could totally do it. Let's be real here. LOL So yeah, if I were in charge of "L+O", that's what would happen. **

** This is for June, Angie, and RubirosaRocks. I heart you guys! This is also for Linus, Alana, Jeremy Sisto, and Anthony Anderson. I also heart you guys! ~Abby **

**EADA Rubirosa **

Chapter One

"So are you all settled in?" newly-promoted EADA Connie Rubirosa asked her new ADA Allison Barclay.

"Yeah, I'd say I am," Allison replied thoughtfully. "Listen, Connie, thank you so much for being so welcoming. I've been so nervous about this whole thing."

"Well, of course!" Connie said pleasantly with a smile. "You're my new partner. I've really been looking forward to meeting you!"

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, too!" Allison said, smiling back. "I'm really moved by the fact that everyone's been so welcoming. I mean, this move was not easy. I've lived in Pennsylvania my whole life…You know, this all seems so surreal, too. I mean, here I am in New York City, in Manhattan, working for Jack McCoy—_the_ Jack McCoy, 'Hang 'em High' McCoy…But I tell you, Connie, I have worked _so hard_."

"I'm sure you have!" said Connie. "And now it's time to enjoy the pay-off…While still busting your ass, but you know what I mean," she added.

There was a split-second pause and then they both laughed.

Then—

"Will you update me on the Sullivan case?" Connie asked.

"Yeah. The police ruled out the rival. Three co-workers alibi'd her. She was there working overtime with them."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Lupo and Bernard interviewed the victim's parents and best friend, as well as a few neighbors."

"Cool."

"The witnesses and the evidence point to the victim's ex-boyfriend, so he's now a suspect. Lupo and Bernard picked him up and are questioning him now. They sent me a text message a couple minutes ago."

"Great! Hey—Lupo, Bernard, and I are gonna call it a day at six and go to our usual bar. It's not too far from here. You wanna join us? My boyfriend is meeting us there—my sister _might_ meet us if she can get off work then."

"Nice! I'd love to get to know everyone better, especially my new coworkers," said Allison.

A couple hours later—

Connie checked her watch.

"It about six," she said. "You wanna get going?"

Allison looked up.

"Sure."

As Connie was exiting the office—

"Aww, you're such a beautiful family!"

Connie turned around to see Allison bending down, looking at the framed pictures Connie had on her desk. Allison had commented on the picture of Connie with her parents and siblings.

"Thank you!" she said brightly.

"Of course!" said Allison. Then, looking at the picture Connie had of her and Mike together, she added, "Is this your boyfriend?"

"Yeah!" Connie said, smiling.

"Wow, he's a good-looking guy," said Allison.

"Yeah, he is…I miss him—and my family…"

Suddenly, her Android beeped, and she dug it out of her purse. She'd received a text message.

"Aw," she said disappointedly, after reading it.

"What is it?"

"It's from my sister. She's not going to be able to make it…Well, darn. Maybe you'll get to meet her some other time. Ready?"

"Yeah."

As they were about to pass Jack's office, the door to which was ajar, Connie peeked in and said, "We came in at seven, Jack, so we're calling it a day. We're going to our usual bar, you wanna join us?"

Jack looked up.

"Not tonight, Connie," he said.

Connie offered, "I'll buy you a scotch—or two."

There was a split-second pause, then—

"I'll think about it," Jack said.

Allison rode with Connie to the nearest bar, the favorite hang-out of Manhattan's cops and D.A.'s.

"Nice place," said Allison, looking around, as she and Connie entered the bar.

"Yeah!" Connie agreed. "This is one of our main haunts."

Allison followed her over to the counter, and the two of them sat on adjacent stools.

"Hey, Connie," said the bartender.

"Hey, Rick!" said Connie.

"What can I get you?"

"A vodka and cranberry—Smirnoff, please," said Connie. "And this is my new partner Allison," she added.

"Hey, Allison!"

"Hi!"

"What can I get you?"

"Can I get a martini—stirred, please?"

"Sure thing!"

"I'd say the Simmons deposition went well today, wouldn't you?" asked Allison.

"Yeah!" Connie agreed.

"Here you ladies are," said Rick, placing Connie and Allison's drinks in front of them. They thanked him.

A few minutes later, Connie saw Mike enter the bar, and she waved at him to get his attention. He smiled and came over to her and Allison.

"Hey!" Connie greeted him, standing up so she could hug him.

"Hi!" Mike said sweetly, returning her embrace.

They kissed and then sat down.

Mike then exchanged greetings with Rick the bartender and ordered a beer.

"Mike, this is Allison Barclay, my new ADA. Allison, this is my love, Mike Cutter."

"Hi, Mike, nice to meet you!" Allison said amiably.

"Nice to meet you, too!" said Mike.

The two of them shook hands.

"Connie tells me you're a prosecutor, too," said Allison.

"Yeah, I'm with the Queens D.A.'s office," Mike said. "Connie said you were with the Pittsburgh D.A."

"Yeah," said Allison. "I was with a private firm in Philly for a while, then I went there, and now here."

"Your former boss was one of my law professors," said Mike.

"Don?" asked Allison.

"Yeah."

"He's a piece of work, isn't he?"

"No kidding…I had him for Criminal Law Seminar on 6th Amendment Issues, State Prosecution Function, and Criminal Law and Procedure. He hated me," Mike said, a smile playing about his face.

"Why?" Connie asked, surprised.

"Probably because I was so outspoken," Mike said, clearly amused.

"You, outspoken? Shocker!" Connie joked. "But maybe he was one of those professors who doesn't like it when their students are ridiculously intelligent. Maybe he felt threatened by you," she added seriously.

"So did all your professors feel threatened by you?" Mike asked her.

Connie smiled, knowing exactly what he was implying.

"Or maybe he just thought you talked too much," she then joked.

"Most people seem to think so," Mike joked self-deprecatingly with a small smile.

"How was your day?" Connie asked him.

"Long and stressful. This damn Goodwin case…We just keep grasping at straws," Mike replied.

"It'll work out," Connie said warmly. "I've got a good feeling about it."

She gave him a reassuring smile.

"I needed that," Mike said gratefully, gently touching her face. "Thank you, Connie."

"Of course!" Connie said.

"So how was your day?"

"Busy. We had a deposition for the Simmons case, a new suspect came up in the Sullivan case, and we won the motion hearing for the Collins case. Also, the Appellate Court overturned Woll conviction number twenty-one, set a date for number twenty-two, and agreed to hear number twenty-three."

"I think it's worth a trip to Rikers just to rub it all in, what do you say?"

"It's tempting," Connie admitted.

She kissed him on the cheek and then dug her phone out of her purse.

"Jack really should join us," she said. "He doesn't give himself enough of a break. I'm going to call him." She dialed his number. "Hey, Jack, it's Connie…Yeah, we are. Do you want to join us?...Are you sure?...Jack, I think the voters will spare you just a little bit of time to have a couple drinks…All right. You're disappointing me, Jack," she joked. "Okay…You, too. See you tomorrow morning…'Bye…Well," she said to Mike and Allison, "no rest for the weary, I guess. I'll twist his arm more next week."

"Did he know I'd be here?" Mike joked.

"Mike, he does miss you," said Connie. "You know what?"

"What?"

"The day after you left, he wore the tie clip you bought him to work."

"He did?"

"Yeah! Don't be silly, Mike. You know he likes you!"

"I actually can't tell what he thinks of _me_," said Allison. "To be honest, that worries me."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So...something amazing happened today! A few weeks ago, me, DaisyDay, and theSilverChef won an auction. This guy who must work for NBC in some capacity auctions off a lot of stuff from "Law and Order", mainly props. Sooo, June finds out the guy's auctioning off MIKE CUTTER'S BASEBALL STUFF! Aaaaaand, guess what? WE WON! WE FREAKING WON! We pooled our money and divvied up the items amongst the three of us. It was decided that I would get Mike's #1 favorite baseball, and I GOT IT IN THE MAIL TODAY! :-D I am just over the moon, you guys! (That, and I can't stop thinking, "LINUS ROACHE ACTUALLY TOUCHED THIS!" LOL) So, because I'm super happy, I'm posting today! 3 Abby**

Chapter Two

"Yeah, he can be hard to read at times, I know," Connie said understandingly. "But don't worry—if he says something, and you're not sure what it means, just talk to me about it. I speak fluent Jack McCoy," she added with a smile.

"Thanks, Connie," Allison said gratefully with a smile. "It's just that his reputation precedes him. He intimidates me because I respect him so much. And he's so…_surly_."

Connie chuckled good-naturedly.

"Yeah, he is," she agreed. "But don't worry. You wouldn't be here if he didn't think you were good enough—if you didn't have what it takes," she added encouragingly.

"You're so sweet," said Allison. "Thanks so much!"

"Of course!" said Connie. "If Mike can work with him, anyone can!" she joked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mike asked, though he was smiling.

"Exactly what it means," Connie replied.

Smirking smugly, she patted him on the thigh.

"You know what I watched last night?" Mike asked.

"What?" asked Connie.

"_Family Showdown with Larry and Septomom_," Mike said, now smirking himself. "I've heard rumors that they want you to make another guest appearance. I think you should."

"I hate you," Connie said, not meaning it at all.

"No, you don't," Mike said, still smirking.

"Anyway," Connie said, fighting back a smile. "He's not bad at all, Allison, I promise. Like you said, he's just surly. He's not nasty or vicious at all—not like this one lawyer I know."

"Who?" asked Allison.

"Oh, the EADA over in Queens," Connie replied, trying even harder not to smile. "Now he is just _brutal_—they don't call him 'Cut-Throat' Cutter for nothing!"

She turned to Mike, and her smirk became a smile when she saw that he was smiling in amusement. She reached up and briefly rested her hand against his cheek before turning back to Allison.

"Sorry—that's our relationship for you," she said.

"No, it's fine," Allison said, smiling and then taking a sip of her martini. "Maybe I'll find someone here in the illustrious Big Apple."

Connie waved at Lupo and Bernard, noticing that they'd just entered the bar.

"Hey, Connie," Lupo said, seating himself beside Allison.

"Hi, all," Bernard said, sitting down next to Lupo.

The two of them each ordered a beer.

"Hey, Cutter," Bernard called down the counter of the bar.

Mike didn't reply.

"What's his deal?" Bernard asked.

"Oh," said Connie, nodding at the TV.

The bartender had just turned on the Yankees game. Mike sat deeply immersed in the game, his eyes glued to the TV, bottle of beer in hand. His tie was undone, and his sleeves were rolled up.

"It's nothing you two did—he's just in his own little world," Connie said, clearly amused.

"Man," Bernard went on, "talk about Judge Bitch this morning."

"Yeah," Lupo agreed. "I spent four years busting terrorists. Don't passive-aggressively tell me I don't know how to do my job."

"You said it, Lupes," Bernard agreed, taking a sip of beer.

"I feel like it's my fault," Allison said.

"It's not you, Miss Barclay," Lupo said. "Judge Daniels is a bitch—always has been, always will be."

"Call me Allison—and thank you. That means a lot, seriously. For a while there, I was worried it was me."

"Allison, trust us—it wasn't you," said Connie reassuringly.

"Yeah," said Lupo, taking a sip of beer. "No one can wait for her to retire."

Allison took another sip of her martini.

"I'm just antsy because I just got licensed to practice here, this is a completely different city, obviously a completely different state. I don't know the other attorneys here, I don't know the judges—and, like I said before, Jack McCoy intimidates the living daylights out of me…"

"It's okay, Allison," Connie said kindly. "I moved all the way across the country for law school."

"Ooh, where are you from? I can't believe I haven't asked you that yet."

"California."

"Nice! Where'd you go to law school?"

"NYU."

"That's awesome—and I'm not just saying that because you're my boss."

Connie chuckled.

"I know that," she said. "So where'd you go to law school?"

"Penn State," Allison replied. "Go Nittany Lions!" she added, raising her martini glass. "Where'd Mike go to law school?"

"Hudson."

Just then—

"I can't believe you just swung at that! That pitch was terrible! _Never swing_ at a slider!" Mike declared to the television.

Allison chuckled.

Connie smiled and shook her head.

Lupo then said, "I'm in law school right now."

"Really?" Allison said, intrigued.

"Yeah—I go part time at Hudson, in the evenings."

"Awesome!"

"Thanks," Lupo said, smiling. "It's a great day out today," he went on. "Wish I'd had the chance to take Otto for a walk in Central Park."

"You have a dog?" Allison said brightly.

"Yeah," Lupo replied, taking out his phone and showing her a picture of Otto.

"Aww!"

"Do you have a dog?" Lupo asked.

"I have two," said Allison. "Butch is a pug, he's three, and Rex is a Scottie, he's five. They're my boys."

She really hoped she wasn't blushing when Lupo smiled. She was pretty sure her martini wasn't the reason the room suddenly felt so hot.

Lupo suddenly stood up.

"Bartender's at the other end—I'm gonna go get another beer," he said.

When he was out of earshot, Allison turned to Connie.

"Is he seeing anyone?" she asked.

"Not that I know of," Connie said, looking to Bernard for confirmation.

"No, ma'am," Bernard said. "He's one hundred percent single."

"Hmm…" Allison said thoughtfully.

"I think you should go for it," Connie said. "Just for the record."

"What're we talking about?" Mike suddenly asked.

The network airing the Yankees game had gone to commercial break.

"Welcome back," Connie joked, smirking. "Oh, we were just talking about what a great reality star you'd make. I can see it now—Michael Cutter: Law Shark. It'd be a hit."

"Would you make a guest appearance?" Mike asked, also smirking.

"Absolutely not. I'd draw up your contract and include a clause that says by no means will I make an appearance—ever," Connie bantered.

"Okay, so I'd go on camera and show your picture."

"Um, that would be in violation of your contract."

"But it'd say 'appearance'. 'Appearance' implies a physical presence on camera. Showing a photograph isn't a physical presence on camera," Mike said, still smirking.

"Thank you, spin artist," said Connie, fighting back a smile. "But I will have you know that 'appearance' is a broader term than you think. A picture of me is still me on camera. I'm still appearing, just in a different medium. Sorry!"

"_I'm_ the spin artist?" Mike said.

Connie laughed.

"I can't believe we're even talking about this!" she said. "I mean, it's not like it's ever gonna happen!"

"Well, it could! I mean, you're the one with the industry contact! And second of all, you started it!"

"You didn't have to continue it!"

"But I wanted to—and I'm enjoying myself!"

Connie looked at him for a split second. Then, smiling, she gave him a gentle, playful shove with her left hand.

"I love bantering with you. It's too much fun," Mike said.

"Likewise," said Connie.

They held hands, interlacing their fingers.

Mike gave her his sweetest, dimple-displaying smile, and Connie just had to lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

Then—

"Oh—game's back on," Mike said.

"See you later," Connie joked.

"I'd hate to kill the mood, but Slater lawyered up," said Allison.

"Who's he got?" asked Connie.

"Uh, Trevor Langan. Obviously, I don't know him."

Connie sighed.

"Well—so much for pleading out. We'll be going to trial—fasten your seatbelt," she said irritably.

"We can handle him, Connie," said Allison.

"What's the toughest case you've ever worked?" Lupo suddenly asked her.

"Two years ago," Allison replied. "We were prosecuting a serial killer doctor. Bastard was clever as hell—covered all his tracks and hired the sleaziest defense attorney in Pittsburgh. We thought we'd never nail him. Then one day, his ex-wife came to us and told us he'd confessed to her. We thought we had him then—but the defense pounced."

It was commercial break, so Mike was paying attention again.

"Let me guess," said Connie. "A motion to exclude the ex-wife's testimony, claiming they were married at the time, so spousal privilege was in effect."

"Wow, you're good! That's exactly what happened! And guess what? The judge granted it. God, we thought we were _screwed_…" Allison said.

"Why didn't you just—"

"Trying to slip in the testimony by saying it came from a confidential informant would've been dishonest, Mike," Connie interrupted him.

Mike's blue eyes were wide with surprise.

"How did you know I was going to suggest that?"

"Because I know you extremely well, and I know how you think," Connie replied.

"Wow, Connie—first you become part of my conscience, and now you know exactly what I'm thinking," Mike said. "See?" he added to Allison. "She's amazing. The fact that you can do that, Connie, has to mean something."

Connie smiled and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. They were still holding hands.

When the game came back on, Mike's focus went right back to the TV.

Seeing that Lupo had finished his second beer and had just downed a shot, Allison said, "Rough day?"

"Rough past few days, actually," Lupo replied. "I had a huge exam last night. Civil Procedure."

"Yeah, how'd that go, Lupes?" asked Bernard.

"It was nerve-wracking as hell, but not bad over all. I'm just coming down from a very stressful week."

Bernard chuckled.

"Am I gonna have to drive, partner?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm good," Lupo said, chuckling.

"Yeah, I'm definitely drivin'," Bernard joked.

Allison chuckled.

"As soon as the jury announced the guilty verdict for Dr. Sandefur—God, we all hurried out of that courtroom like our asses were on fire," she then reminisced. "Me, my boss Miranda Stevens, the lieutenant, the top two detectives, the M.E., and a few paralegals. We went straight to the nearest bar to celebrate…Man—I don't even think I was that drunk on my twenty-first birthday. I mean, we were all pretty smashed, but…Yeah, talk about coming down from stress. I hear ya," she told Lupo.

He smiled and chuckled, and she felt like the room was hot again—and that her martini still had nothing to do with it.

Just then, there came a collective _"Yes!"_ from several people in the bar, including Mike. Derek Jeter had just hit a homer with a guy on third, putting the Yankees up by two. Various cheering and clapping ensued, as well.

"Don't look at me, I like football," Allison said with a smile.

"Me, too," said Bernard. "Let me guess, Steelers?"

"Oh heck no! Eagles all the way, man, I'm from Philly. How about you?"

"Go Jets," said Bernard, smiling.

"What about you, Connie?" asked Allison.

"I'm a Chargers fan," said Connie.

"Does Mike like football?"

"No, he's completely baseball."

"I gotta tell ya, you men are so funny whenever you're watching sports. It's like you've got tunnel vision! I dated this guy in college, and he was from England, and you know how they are about soccer over there," said Allison. "I'm telling you, he'd be watching Manchester United, and it was like I wasn't even there. Tunnel vision!"

Connie smirked.

"Well, Mike's the worst," she said. Then, turning to him, she added, "Right, honey?"

"Mmhm," Mike said vaguely, clearly not paying attention at all.

Allison laughed.

"Case in point," she said.

Connie smirked again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A little while later, the conversation was interrupted by the bar erupting in cheers and clapping.

"Yankees must've won the game," Bernard said, a small, amused smile on his face.

"Yep—look at the screen," Allison said, nodding at the TV and smiling.

"Welcome back," Connie teased Mike.

"You wouldn't mind if I dragged you to a Yankees game with me, would you?" he asked her.

"You wouldn't be dragging me—I'd love to go," Connie said, smiling.

Mike smiled.

"This case could easily be pled out," said Allison. "Sorry—I'm a moment-killer."

"You're okay! Trevor Langan doesn't do plea bargains," said Connie. "Trust me—nothing would serve me better than to just say 'murder two, twenty to life', but it'd be a waste of time."

"You'll get a conviction, Connie," Mike said sweetly. "I know you will."

Connie smiled.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," she said. "It means more than you know. It always has."

"I've never doubted you as a prosecutor—or as a person," Mike added.

Connie kissed him on the cheek in response.

"So I guess I'm in for an interesting first trial case here," said Allison.

"The Sullivan case?" asked Mike.

"Yeah," Allison replied.

"Who's his lawyer?"

"Trevor Langan," said Connie.

"So the son-of-a-bitch upgraded," Mike said in disgust. "Apparently the novelty of defending rapists has worn off."

"No kidding," said Connie.

"If he makes things difficult for you, Connie, I swear to God," Mike said darkly.

Connie gently laid a hand on his arm.

"Hey," she said bracingly with a smile, "it's okay. I'm a big girl, I can take it."

"I don't mean to belittle or underestimate you," said Mike. "It's just—this is your first trial as EADA, and I want everything to go perfectly for you."

Connie smiled appreciatively.

"I know that."

"So how'd you guys nail Dr. Serial Killer?" Lupo asked Allison.

"It wasn't easy," she replied. "But Amy and Jonathan, the lead detectives for the case, found that he has a brother and a sister living in Ohio. Apparently he practiced there before he moved to Pennsylvania."

"Where at in Ohio?"

"Cincinnati," said Allison. "We contacted the homicide unit there and looked at the files for their unsolved cases dating back to five years before Sandefur left Ohio. Just when all of us were thinking we'd have to drop the charges, Amy found something promising. A young woman named Marcy Cox was found dead in a park. Her body was found hidden in the bushes."

"How'd she die?"

"Well, that's the thing. The autopsy was inconclusive."

"So how'd you tie it to Sandefur?" Bernard asked.

"Amy and Jonathan interviewed Marcy Cox's parents, and guess who her doctor was?" said Allison.

"Wow," said Lupo. "Did you have any more evidence than that?"

"Yeah. We looked at the medical report, and it said she had brain damage consistent with a stroke, but there was nothing to suggest she'd been at risk for one—no blood clots, no circulatory problems…that and the fact that she was twenty-six when she died—a twenty-six-year-old young woman, no health problems. So _our_ M.E. took a look at the report and pointed out that the three victims we'd found in our jurisdiction had the same type of brain damage Marcy Cox had."

"So how'd they all die?"

"You guys know what an air embolism is?"

"No idea," said Bernard, taking a swig of beer.

"If you take a medical needle and poke a hole in the neck in a certain spot, it causes a deadly stroke in a split second. Guess what our M.E. found when she re-examined our victims' bodies?"

"Damn," Bernard said, shaking his head.

"How'd the ex-wife not know?" asked Connie.

"She's from Scranton," said Allison. "So Sandefur didn't meet and marry her until he moved to Pennsylvania. Plus, she only mentioned _three_ murders, not four."

"You guys find any needles stashed anywhere?" asked Lupo.

"No. This guy was too smart. After I'd found a judge who would give me another warrant to tear Sandefur's place up, we found trophies—one piece of jewelry taken from each young woman he murdered. They were in a small box, hidden under a loose floorboard in the bastard's bedroom. Victims' parents I.D.'d their daughters' jewelry. So there you have it—the most difficult case I have ever worked."

"Yeah, I remember reading about the Sandefur case. It was in the _Ledger_ a few times," said Connie. "Maybe the fact that you worked on it was something that endeared you to Jack," she added with a smile.

"So what brought you to New York?" asked Lupo.

"Well," said Allison, taking a sip of her martini, "it's because of two of my former coworkers. First of all, the D.A. is a…not a very nice man—almost let something slip there. And the EADA was moving back home to New Hampshire. I worked with her for four years, so since she wasn't going to be in Pittsburgh anymore, I didn't want to stay there. She left because she can't stand the D.A., either. So we're at a bar, celebrating our last conviction together, and she goes, 'Pack your bags, my dear ward, you're going to New York', and I was like, 'New York?', and she said, 'Yeah, New York City—Manhattan, to be exact. I got you an interview—old law school buddy of mine has a position he's gotta fill'. Of course, I asked her who this buddy is, and she just said, 'Oh, Jack McCoy', like it was no big deal."

"How'd you react?" Lupo said, smirking.

"I stared at her for a moment and then said, 'Oh _fuck me!_'—really loudly…Christ, I still can't believe I said that...Half the office had to have heard me," Allison said, shaking her head.

Connie gave an amused smile, while Mike, Lupo, and Bernard snickered.

"It's hard to move away from home, I know," said Lupo. "I spent four years overseas doing intel."

"Awesome!" Allison said.

Lupo gave a shy smile and shrugged.

"They throw you a party?" asked Bernard.

"Yeah, they threw Miranda and I a joint party, it was really nice," said Allison.

"Have you spoken to Miranda recently?" asked Connie. "I can tell you two are really close."

"Yeah," said Allison with a smile. "I spoke to her yesterday, as a matter of fact."

"That's good!"

"Do you still talk to _your_ former boss, Connie?" Mike joked, smirking.

"Oh, every once in a while," Connie joked.

"Oh, so you two used to work together?" Allison asked them.

"Yeah," said Connie, smiling.

"I transferred to Queens because I don't date coworkers, but I'm in love with Connie. I'm so glad everything worked out," Mike said sweetly. "I am _very_ lucky."

"Me, too," Connie said warmly. "I don't do office romances, either," she added to Allison. "But I happen to love this particular gentleman very much."

Mike kissed her on the cheek, making her smile.

"Hey," she said, "speaking of leaving, you left your dark blue baseball in the desk."

"Oh—" said Mike, "yeah. I—I did that on purpose. I want you to have it. That way you have something of mine as a way of keeping me close."

Connie smiled.

"That's really sweet, Mike. I'll definitely keep it."

Mike gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

"Hey, you know what?" said Connie. "My favorite paperweight is missing."

"The red one?" Mike asked.

"Yes, actually," Connie said with a playfully suspicious look. "Did you take it?"

"Yeah," said Mike. "I—I just wanted something of yours as a way of keeping _you_ close."

"Okay, normally, I'd be a little miffed, but I just can't be because that's really sweet," Connie said. "Since that's the case, I want you to keep it."

Mike smiled sweetly at her.

"But you have to admit, the pictures of us from your going away party are really good," Connie added.

"I was surprised people came. There I was thinking no one would miss me," Mike joked self-deprecatingly.

Meanwhile, Allison had been conversing with Lupo and Bernard.

"So what area of law do you want to go into, Detective?" Allison asked.

"Call me Cyrus—and I'm not sure yet. Maybe Constitutional. I haven't decided."

"Connie said you're really good at your job. Why not choose criminal law as your focus?" Allison suggested.

Lupo shrugged.

"Maybe, I don't know," he said with another shrug and a bashful smile.

"You gonna go sleazebag defense attorney on me, partner?" Bernard joked.

"You know it, man," Lupo bantered back.

"Maybe you'll work in the D.A.'s office some day," said Allison.

"Heh—right," Lupo said skeptically.

"Um, excuse me—no low self-esteem allowed here!" Connie said, smiling. Turning to Mike, she added, "That means you, too, Mister Nobody-Will-Miss-Me!"

"Yes, ma'am," Mike said, smiling impishly.

"You know, my brother Eric's a cop," said Allison.

"Yeah?" said Bernard. "What area?"

"Narcotics," Allison replied. "His friends shorten our last name and call him Barc the Narc," she added, grinning.

Bernard and Lupo chuckled.

"So if I'm 'Cut-Throat' Cutter, what does that make you? 'Ruthless' Rubirosa?" Mike asked Connie, smiling.

"Uh, you're projecting," Connie joked back. "_You're_ the shark here, not me!"

"But you were kicking my ass during the Dresner case, and after I transferred, Jack promoted you, so doesn't that make _you_ a shark, as well?"

"No, I'm just that good."

"Well, when someone's 'just that good', people call them a beast. Sharks _are_ pretty beastly, so…I think you _are_ a shark, then."

Connie laughed.

"Nice, Mike," she said.

"That _was_ nice, wasn't it?" Mike said, smiling playfully.

Just then, his alert tone for his Blackberry went off, signaling his receipt of a text message.

"Thus beeped the Blackberry," said Connie.

"It's from Doug," Mike said, taking his Blackberry out of his pocket and reading the message his new partner had just sent him. "The police found new evidence for the Goodwin case." He sighed. "Looks like I'm going to have to take off."

"Okay," Connie said understandingly with a smile. "And see? I told you something would come up."

"Yeah, you were right—as usual," Mike said warmly. "Detectives," he added cordially, acknowledging Lupo and Bernard, who nodded at him.

"It was nice meeting you, Allison," Mike said amicably.

"Nice meeting you, too," said Allison.

She and Mike shook hands, then Mike turned to Connie.

"I'll call you later tonight, okay?" he said.

"Sounds good," Connie said, smiling.

She and Mike kissed each other 'goodbye'.

"Goodbye, Connie, I love you," Mike said sweetly.

"I love you, too," Connie said with a smile. "'Bye!"

Mike smiled and kissed her on the cheek before exiting the bar.

Connie smiled to herself.

Allison fake-coughed the word 'keeper' and then cleared her throat.

Connie pretended not to hear her, though she couldn't keep her smile from broadening.

She changed the subject by having the four of them go over everything about the Sullivan case.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Arraignment Court

"Docket ending number 4237, The People versus Eric Slater, one count murder in the second degree," the clerk announced, handing the paperwork to Judge Alberta Hagen.

"How does your client plead, Mr. Langan?"

"Not guilty, Your Honor," answered Eric Slater, a tall, pale, dark-haired man in his '20s.

"Very well. Bail, Miss Barclay?"

"The people request remand, Your Honor," Allison replied. "The defendant harassed the victim, his ex-girlfriend Gail Sullivan, non-stop for breaking up with him, until he snapped. He followed her home from work and shot her to death in her apartment."

"Remand is excessive, Your Honor. My client is not a flight risk. He holds a steady job and has no criminal record."

"All right, then, how about this: five hundred thousand, but cash only?"

"Thank you, Judge," said Langan.

"Are the people satisfied, Miss Barclay?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well, then, bail is set at five hundred thousand, cash only," said the judge, banging down the gavel.

As she said, "Next case!", and the clerk announced it—

"Well, well, a newbie," said Langan, turning to Allison and extending his hand. "Trevor Langan."

"Allison Barclay," Allison said in a slightly suspicious tone, shaking his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to plead this out, Mr. Langan? My boss and I _are_ open to making a deal."

"And what 'deal' would that be? Putting an emotionally distressed young man away for life? You'll forgive me for saying no way in hell. See you at trial," said Langan. Turning to his client, he added, "Come on, Eric—let's go get your bail taken care of."

Allison sighed as she followed the pair of them out of the courtroom, briefcase in hand.

Office of EADA

Connie Rubirosa

Connie sat at her desk, idly tossing the dark blue baseball Mike had left for her from one hand to the other. She'd been reviewing everything for the Sullivan case, double-checking to make sure all i's had been dotted and all t's crossed.

She looked up when there came a knock at her door, which was slightly ajar.

It was Jack.

"How's it going?" he asked with a small smile.

"All right," said Connie, smiling back.

She gave Jack the latest update on the Sullivan case.

"Sounds like you've got all your ducks in a row," Jack said.

"Let's hope it's enough," Connie said doubtfully.

"I think this case is a slam dunk, Connie," Jack said kindly. "You've been doing great. Promoting you was the right thing to do."

Connie smiled, speechless.

"You know, there haven't been two women and one man working together here for a while," Jack said, a small smile on his face. "I've got to get used to that again. There's nothing wrong with it, of course. I'm just saying it's been a while."

"Oh, I know!" Connie said reassuringly.

"But you know what's _really_ taking some getting used to?" said Jack.

"What's that, politics?" Connie joked.

"The lack of sexual tension around here," Jack replied, an impish glint in his eyes. "Observing it was my favorite form of entertainment," he added with a smirk.

"Ha ha," Connie said sarcastically, knowing he was referring to her and Mike—but she was smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Supreme Court Trial

Part 2

One of the prosecution's main witnesses was on the stand. It was time for her to be questioned by the defense.

Mike, Lupo, and Bernard sat right behind Connie and Allison, who listened intently from the prosecution table.

Trevor Langan arose smugly and strode up to the front of the room.

"Mrs. Peretti," he addressed the witness, "you've been hospitalized before, is that correct?"

Mrs. Peretti looked nervously from Judge Dale McConnell to Langan.

"Yes," she replied.

"Tell us what sort of hospitalization that was. Why were you admitted?"

Mrs. Peretti's eyes went from Allison to Connie as she hesitated.

"It was a psychiatric hospital…"

"And why were you there?"

"It…it was Post-Partum Psychosis."

"Post-Partum Psychosis?" Langan repeated, a malevolent undertone to his voice. "So childbirth made you lose it, essentially?"

"Objection!" Connie said sharply.

"Let me rephrase that, Your Honor."

"That's a very good idea, Mr. Langan," said Judge McConnell.

"So childbirth caused you to become psychotic?"

"Yes," Mrs. Peretti answered, staring down at her hands.

"Meaning you had delusional episodes, correct?"

"Yes…"

"What did your doctor or doctors do for you?"

"They prescribed an anti-psychotic drug."

"I see…How long were you on this drug?"

Connie arose.

"Approach, Your Honor?"

"Very well," said McConnell, placing his hand over his mic.

Allison followed Connie over to him.

"Your Honor, the witness's mental state is not on trial here," Connie said in an undertone.

"Credibility, Your Honor—all part and parcel," uttered Langan.

"I suggest you hurry up and make your point, Mr. Langan. You're taking too long to do so," said McConnell. "You're bordering on babbling."

"Yes, Your Honor," said Langan.

He shot Connie a supercilious look as she and Allison made their way back to their seats.

Connie glanced at Mike. He looked annoyed.

"So how long were you hospitalized and how long were you on this drug?"

"They kept me there for three days, and I was on the medication for six months before my doctor decided to see how I would do without it. I saw him regularly."

"So you no longer take it?"

"No, I don't."

"So would it be so outlandish to venture a guess that your brain may lapse every now and then?"

Connie stood again.

"Objection! Your Honor, Mrs. Peretti underwent a 7-30 exam with our psychiatrist, which she passed. She is perfectly fit to testify. Furthermore, the people subpoenaed her medical records, to which the defense was granted access. Those records indicate that she has not had a psychotic episode recently, nor did she have one three months ago when she saw Eric Slater in her and Gail Sullivan's apartment building."

"I agree with Ms. Rubirosa. You need to move on, Mr. Langan. I think I may have had a psychotic episode in allowing this to go on for as long as it has. Back to the drawing board, Mr. Langan," said McConnell.

Connie and sat back down and then turned around and glanced at Mike again. He was looking intently at Langan, like he was trying to read what the guy would do next.

"You seemed hesitant in identifying my client from a line-up. Are you sure it was him?" said Langan.

"I took my time because I wanted to be absolutely sure."

"I see…Nothing further."

"Do you wish to cross examine, Ms. Rubirosa?" asked McConnell.

"No, Your Honor."

"Very well then. The witness may step down."

Supreme Court Trial

Part 9

"Dr. Rodgers, when you did the autopsy, what did you conclude?" asked Connie.

"The cause of death was two gunshot wounds. One bullet pierced the victim's left lung, the other her heart. The second shot was the one that ended her suffering because it would have stopped her heart immediately."

"Thank you. Nothing further."

Supreme Court Trial

Part 17

"Your Honor, the people wish to call our next witness, Nichole Chase," said Connie.

When Nichole was sworn in, Connie began her questioning.

"Miss Chase, please describe your role in the investigation."

"I work in the forensics lab."

"People's one, Your Honor," said Connie, picking up a plastic bag from off the prosecution table. It contained a gun. "This is the murder weapon, correct?"

"Yes, it's a 9mm."

"Where was it found?"

"CSU retrieved it outside the victim's apartment building, wrapped in a coat and buried in a dumpster."

"Were you able to tie this gun to the defendant?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"We lifted prints off of it. They were a fifteen-point match."

"Would you please explain that to the jury?"

"Yes. That means the odds of the prints belonging to anyone other than the defendant are more than a million to one."

"People's two, Your Honor," said Connie, retrieving a different plastic bag. "These are 9mm shell casings?"

"Yes."

"Where did you find these?"

"CSU retrieved them from the victim's apartment."

"And what do they have to do with the defendant?"

"We matched them to that gun."

"So one can logically conclude from this evidence that the defendant used that specific gun to shoot Gail Sullivan?"

"Yes."

"You found no other prints on the gun, nothing else of significance?"

"No."

" So there is no forensic evidence to suggest that anyone other than the defendant fired it?"

"Correct."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Supreme Court Trial

Part 20

"How did you know the victim, Miss Sanderson?" Connie asked the witness.

"She was my best friend," Kelly Sanderson replied. "We were also roommates in college. We met in high school."

"What did you know, if anything, about Miss Sullivan and Mr. Slater?"

"They dated our junior and senior years of college. Eric had it bad for her," Kelly replied. "He had a bunch of pictures of them on Facebook…But when Gail broke up with him, he…he changed."

"What do you mean?"

"He started harassing her. He kept sending her angry messages on Facebook. He also called her all the time and left her angry voice messages."

"And how do you know this?"

"Gail let me read the Facebook messages and listen to the voice messages."

"How did Miss Sullivan react to these messages?"

"At first, she was annoyed because he just kept doing it. She told me that she'd told him it was over between them, but obviously, he didn't listen. He just kept hounding her, and she got really freaked out. She told me she was really scared—that he was showing a side of himself she didn't even know existed. She said he sounded like a completely different man. Those were her exact words."

"Did she do anything about the harassment?"

"She told me that she was just going to keep ignoring him—that maybe he'd eventually take the hint and leave her alone. I told her she should contact the police and file a restraining order. I don't know if she heard me or not."

"People's three, Your Honor," Connie said, retrieving some papers from off the prosecution table. She showed them to the witness and asked, "Do you recognize these, Miss Sanderson?"

"Yes. They're printed-off Facebook messages from Eric to Gail."

"When Detectives Lupo and Bernard searched Miss Sullivan's apartment, they found these messages in a manila folder in her desk drawer. Did you know she was keeping these, and do you know why?"

"I had no idea she printed them off. When she let me read them, I read them off her laptop."

"Thank you," said Connie. "Nothing further."

Supreme Court Trial

Part 44

The victim's father was on the stand.

"My wife and I always encouraged our daughter to come to us whenever there was something wrong, whenever she felt she needed us. She didn't tell us right away that she was being harassed. She said she thought it was something she had to handle on her own, but we told her that wasn't true."

"So she eventually opened up to you?" asked Connie.

"Yes. She told us everything she told Kelly—all about the break-up, the Facebook messages, and the phone messages."

"How did she seem to you?"

"She was terrified, just as Kelly said."

"Did you give her any advice?"

"Yes. My wife and I told her she should change her phone number and delete her Facebook account. Also that she should file a restraining order."

"Did she do any of those things, do you know?"

"She didn't delete her Facebook account. She told us she blocked him from contacting her there. She said she changed her email address. She…she didn't…I'm sorry…"

He paused.

"It's all right, take your time," said Connie.

Mr. Sullivan sighed and then continued.

"The—the last time we talked to her, she still had the same phone number. She—she told us she was going to change it, but…obviously, she never got the chance."

He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"Mr. Sullivan, did you know your daughter kept copies of the Facebook messages?"

"No."

"Did your daughter tell you anything else about the defendant harassing her?"

"She said sometimes she would have trouble falling asleep because she was so scared."

"Did she let you read the Facebook messages or listen to the phone messages?"

"Yes. All of it was despicable. That was why we urged her to go to the police."

"Did your daughter ever introduce you to Mr. Slater?"

"Yes. He came over for dinner a few times."

"What was your impression of him?"

"We thought he was all right. Most parents think no one is good enough for their child, but we honestly believed he was decent."

"Before the harassment and the break-up, did Gail ever complain to you about him? If so, what did she say?"

"She said before that she thought he had some jealousy issues and that he could be clingy at times."

"Did your daughter ever explain to you why she ended her relationship with the defendant?"

"Yes. She said she was tired of his jealousy and insecurity. Those were her exact words. I also remember her calling him co-dependent, clingy, and possessive. She said they argued about all that, and that was why she dumped him. She said she'd had enough of it."

"Mr. Sullivan, did your daughter ever mention anything specific Mr. Slater did to make her form that opinion of him?"

"She said he called and texted her a lot—more than she thought was normal. She said he'd get irritated when she was too busy to spend time with him or when she wanted a night out with just her friends and not him. A couple times, she told us she thought he didn't give her enough space. One time, she said she felt smothered—that was shortly before she ended the relationship. I also remember her saying he would call her whenever she went out alone or with her friends."

"Did she say why?"

"She said she thought he was checking up on her to make sure she wasn't cheating on him."

"How did she react to that?"

"She said she found it insulting. She told us she had no desire to cheat, and we believed her. Gail was a good, forthright girl. My wife and I raised her to be honest…She said she was very offended by the fact that Slater thought she'd cheat on him."

"Did their relationship start out amicable and then go south, or were things always rocky between them, do you know?"

"They started out great. Gail said she was really happy. Then she started seeing Slater's faults…She told her mother and I that she'd wanted to end the relationship for a while, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. Those were her exact words…"

"Thank you, Mr. Sullivan," said Connie. "Nothing further."

Langan approached the stand.

"Mr. Sullivan, your daughter has never broken you or your wife's trust before?"

"I never said that."

"So she has?"

"Yes. But I don't see what that has to do with anything here."

"Isn't it possible that she was exaggerating my client's behavior? Are you sure she never would've cheated on him?" Langan questioned silkily.

"I _am_ sure she wasn't exaggerating," Mr. Sullivan said angrily, wiping his eyes again. "She would _not_ have cheated, either. Like I told Miss Rubirosa—we raised her to be honest and to treat others with respect—and that is what she did."

"But you're her father—don't you think you could be biased? What if you didn't know your daughter as well as you thought? What if she actually did cause my client some emotional distress?"

Just as Connie stood up and said, "Objection, badgering!", Mr. Sullivan said, "You bastard, my daughter is the victim here! That son-of-a-bitch killed her!"

He nodded at Eric Slater.

"The people move to strike, Your Honor," Connie called.

"Granted," said McConnell. "The jury will disregard that last question and statement. They will be stricken from the record. Mr. Sullivan, I know you're distraught, but please calm down. And as for you, Mr. Langan, rein yourself in. Are you able to do that today, or do we have to reconvene tomorrow morning?"

"I am, Your Honor," said Langan, readjusting his suit jacket.

Mr. Sullivan took a deep, calming breath and released it slowly.

"Your Honor, the people request a brief recess so the witness can have a moment to collect himself," said Connie.

"You have five minutes," said McConnell, banging the gavel.

Mr. Sullivan, Mrs. Sullivan, Connie, and Allison left the courtroom.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Rubirosa," said Mr. Sullivan. "I hope I haven't ruined your chances of getting justice for our daughter."

"Mr. Sullivan, you lost your child, and Mr. Langan was out of line," Connie said understandingly. "It's all right."

"I was watching the jury. They definitely looked sympathetic," said Allison.

"My partner's right," said Connie.

"My brother is a lawyer in Vermont. He said it only takes one juror—_one_ juror not to convict. They could deadlock," said Mrs. Sullivan. "Or worse, acquit."

"Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, do you trust us?" Connie asked gently.

"Yes—yes, we do," Mrs. Sullivan said as her husband nodded.

"We _promise_ you that we are trying as hard as we can to get Eric Slater convicted and sent to prison for life. Okay?" Connie said in a warm, reassuring tone.

Mrs. Sullivan nodded.

"Okay," Mr. Sullivan said softly.

Connie checked her watch.

"We're due back inside. Are you sure you're okay? Because I can request a recess until tomorrow," she said kindly.

"I think it's best if I finish my testimony today," said Mr. Sullivan.

Allison gave him a comforting pat on the back as she and Connie led him and his wife back inside the courtroom.

Mrs. Sullivan sat back down, as did Connie and Allison.

"Are the people ready to proceed, Ms. Rubirosa?" asked McConnell.

"Yes, Your Honor," said Connie.

Mr. Sullivan took the stand again.

"Proceed, Mr. Langan—but tread lightly," McConnell said sternly.

"Mr. Sullivan," said Langan. "Everyone makes mistakes, right? So isn't it possible that, as a flawed human being like the rest of us, your daughter could've gone behind my client's back? Done something to break his heart?"

"I suppose it is, but—"

"Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. Now, have you ever gone through a rough break-up before?"

"Well, before I met my current wife, I was married, and she cheated."

"What did you do, if anything? How did you feel?"

"Angry…hurt…betrayed—mostly hurt. I had the marriage annulled."

"You felt angry, hurt, and betrayed…Isn't it possible that that's how my client felt when your daughter ended their relationship?"

"Perhaps it is. But that wasn't my daughter's prob—"

"Nothing further."

Connie arose to cross-examine.

"You say your ex-wife's cheating made you feel angry, hurt, and betrayed, Mr. Sullivan?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Did you ever say or do anything to your ex to make her feel uncomfortable or afraid when you learned of her infidelity?"

"Absolutely not."

"Do you wish you had?"

"Absolutely not."

"How did you deal with the end of your marriage, with the end of you and your ex-wife's relationship?"

"I worked out, I read, I played golf…focused on my job, watched the Jets…"

"Thank you very much, Mr. Sullivan. No further questions."

"Do you wish to cross-examine, Mr. Langan?" asked McConnell.

"No, Your Honor."

"Very well. The witness may step down."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Supreme Court Trial

Part 92

Bernard was testifying for the prosecution.

"People's seven, Your Honor," said Connie, holding up a new stack of papers.

She approached the stand.

"Detective Bernard, do you recognize these?"

Bernard took the documents.

"Yes," he said. "These are the victim's phone records."

"What are the highlighted portions?"

"Those are numerous calls the victim received from the same phone number."

"Whose number is it?"

"The defendant's."

"Is there anything else of note from these records?"

"The defendant called the victim more than once daily—sometimes as much as five times a day."

"When you and Detective Lupo examined the victim's phone, did you find anything else of note?"

"She had a lot of voice messages. At first we had no idea who they could be from. When we arrested Mr. Slater and were interrogating him, we played the messages for him. We told him we'd pulled the victim's phone records and knew which number was his and how often he called. After a while of hearing him speak, we knew it was his voice. We told him we knew and that a voice I.D. would be easy. He then admitted to leaving the messages. Later that day, we had a voice I.D. done."

"Would you please describe the content of the messages?"

"Hateful, irate, profane—he swore at the victim a lot—hostile, intimidating, abrasive."

"Would you say the messages could legally be classified as harassment?"

"Yes, absolutely. Harassment and intimidation."

"People's eight, Your Honor," Connie said, holding up a different document. "This is a transcript of one of the messages left by the defendant on the victim's phone. The court is warned that it contains explicit language. Detective, would you be so kind as to read it?"

"Yes," Bernard replied, taking the transcript. "You fucking bitch," he read. "You'd better answer me. You can't keep ignoring me—I will not allow it. You and I are going to fucking talk, and it's going to be soon. You are fucking lucky to have me in your life, Gail. You aren't just going to throw this away. Again, I will not allow it. You aren't going to get rid of me, so quit avoiding me. Don't you dare turn your back on the best thing that has ever fucking happened to both of us. I was good to you—I was damn good to you. You're going to face me, and I am not letting you go."

As he read, Allison studied the jurors' reactions. They looked shocked, offended, and disgusted.

After Bernard finished reading, Connie let the content of the message sink in for a moment.

Then—

"Thank you, Detective. Nothing further."

Supreme Court Trial

Part 95

Eric Slater was on the stand.

"Why do you carry a gun, Eric?" asked Langan.

"For protection," Eric replied. "People in this city are crazy. Mugging, robbing, assault…I mean, damn…"

"And you've carried it legally?"

"Yes. I have a permit and a registration."

"How long have you owned your gun?"

"Six months."

"When did Miss Sullivan end your relationship?"

"Four months ago."

"So you didn't purchase the gun just so you could shoot her?"

"No."

"Where do you normally store it?"

"In my car, in the glove compartment. That way, whenever I'm out and about, and I'm somewhere I don't feel entirely safe, it's right there. I can just take it out of my car and have it with me."

"When have you carried it? Night? Day? Both?"

"Usually at night."

"Why is that?" 

"Because I feel like that's when the city is most dangerous."

"You aren't known for being violent, are you, Eric?"

"No."

"In fact, you have no criminal record, do you? You've never had any legal trouble before, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"So being violent obviously isn't the norm for you?"

"No, sir, it isn't."

"So would it be unreasonable to call this whole ordeal an isolated incident?"

"No. I am not a violent person."

"Eric, how did you feel when Miss Sullivan ended your relationship?"

"I was devastated. I had trouble sleeping, sometimes I didn't feel like eating…I was very hurt—hurt and angry. I loved that woman. I _loved_ Gail Sullivan. I would've done anything for her—_anything_. She was the love of my life. I wanted to marry her."

"Why did you behave so angrily?"

"Because I was so hurt! You can't know how much this hurt! Like I said, I was _devastated_. I was…I won't even lie, it felt like I was grieving. It was like I was mourning what we had. I was so devastated and depressed that I wasn't thinking straight. Again, I'm not violent, I'm not hateful. I was just hurt and angry and depressed."

"Do you regret what happened?"

"Yes, I do."

"Would you ever do anything like that again?"

"No, sir, I wouldn't."

"Nothing further," Langan said.

Connie arose and approached the stand.

"You say you carry a gun for protection—to make you feel safe?" she said.

"Yes."

"So when you went to Miss Sullivan's apartment the day she was killed, you brought your gun with you to feel safe? You took it out of your car and into the building with you because you felt you needed the protection—you thought you could be in danger?"

"Well…"

Eric seemed to be struggling to come up with a good answer.

"How did you know where Gail lived?"

"We were together for two years."

"So you two spent time together in her apartment?"

"Yes, we did."

"Think back for me, Mr. Slater—all those other times you visited Gail in her apartment, did you have your gun with you? Did you take it out of your car and into the building with you?"

Eric hesitated.

"No," he finally said.

"So it's reasonable to assume you never felt unsafe in that particular building?"

Eric paused longer this time.

"Yes," he said softly.

"So if you've never felt unsafe or threatened when visiting that building, why'd you have your gun on you for that particular visit? You never felt threatened by Gail before, did you?"

Eric's facial expression read: Oh shit.

And Connie knew it.

"No further questions," she said, returning to the prosecution table.

Langan stood up to cross-examine.

"Why did you bring the gun with you into the building, Eric?"

"I…I was just upset. I was depressed as hell. I just…I just wanted to scare her. That's all."

"So why'd you pull the trigger?"

"I don't know. I just freaked out. I got too emotional. I don't know!"

"So you were overcome with emotion to the point where you weren't thinking clearly, correct?"

Connie stood up.

"Objection, leading the witness."

"Sustained. Try again, Mr. Langan," said the judge.

"Can you describe what was going through your head when you arrived at Miss Sullivan's apartment with your gun?"

"It was just that I wanted to scare her. That's all. I didn't mean to kill her. I just lost it, I swear. I wasn't myself. I was all worked up and upset."

"Nothing further."

Connie stood as Langan sat down.

"Mr. Slater, you did notice that Gail wasn't returning your calls, wasn't emailing you back, and wasn't messaging you back on Facebook, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Isn't it true you tried to email her old address and received an automated message that said your messages couldn't be delivered at all?"

"Yeah, once or twice."

"What did you think when that happened? Anything?"

"At first I thought I'd misspelled her email address, so I double-checked the first time my message bounced back, and I re-sent it, but that wasn't it. Then I thought it was my internet provider, but that never happened when I emailed Gail in the past."

"What was the reason the automated message gave for why your message bounced back?"

"It said something like 'invalid address'."

"Did you wonder why that was?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Did it occur to you that she may have changed her email address?"

"Yeah, I figured that's what she did."

"Did you know she'd blocked you on Facebook?"

"Well, when I saw that I couldn't contact her there, I figured she must have."

"So you figured she changed her email address and blocked you on Facebook. So you knew she was keeping you from contacting her online, and you knew she was ignoring your voice messages and wasn't returning your calls. How'd you feel about all that?"

"Ignored…hurt…betrayed…depressed…angry…"

"Did Gail know you were going to visit her the day she was shot?"

Eric paused.

"No…" he then said.

"Did you ever surprise her with visits before, when the two of you were together?"

Eric's face bore the 'Oh shit' look again. He paused longer than before, then—

"No…"

"So you never surprised her with a visit before, yet you did the day she died? You never brought your gun with you into her apartment building before, yet you did the day she died? Did she ever tell you her work schedule?"

"No."

"Did you ever ask her for it?"

"No."

"So that's why you had to ask the receptionist at the magazine where Gail had recently been hired?"

"Yes…"

"So you found out when she would be off work, you brought your gun with you, and you showed up unannounced at her apartment—three things you'd never done before? Yet you claim all you wanted to do was scare her?"

"Yes…"

"You harassed her incessantly—to the point where she barred you from contacting her online, and she was planning to change her phone number. It didn't occur to you that she may have done those things because you scared her?"

"I just wanted to talk to her!"

"Then why not just say that? Why harass and threaten her? Why show up at her apartment, unannounced with your gun? If you just wanted to talk, why the hostile behavior? Why shoot her?"

"I felt ignored! She wasn't paying attention to me! I never meant to kill her, I just wanted her back! I just wanted to scare her, get her attention, I swear! Have you ever been in love with someone, Miss Rubirosa?"

Connie couldn't help but glance at Mike before answering.

"Not in the way you have, Mr. Slater," she said, disgust in her voice.

Eric completely missed her point.

"Then you don't understand," he said. "I _never meant_ to kill her."

"Oh believe me, Mr. Slater—I understand a lot better than you think."

Again, Eric completely missed the point.

"No, you don't," he said.

"Nothing further," Connie said, ignoring him.

She went and sat back down.

"The defense rests, Your Honor," said Langan.

"The people rest, as well, Your Honor," said Connie.

"Looks like we're finished, then," said Judge McConnell. "Very well—I'll hear closing arguments tomorrow. Court will reconvene tomorrow morning at nine o'clock."

With that, he banged down the gavel.

"I think we have a pretty good shot at winning," Allison said to Connie, as the two of them packed up. "This jury does _not_ look like they're buying the 'poor me, I'm a tortured soul' defense."

"Well, it _has_ worked in the past, even though it's desperate. That's why it's still used. I'm just…" Connie sighed. "I'm just not going to get my hopes up. I feel like it could go either way."

"You up for drinks?" asked Allison.

"Sure," said Connie.

She turned around to Mike.

"Hey, Allison and I are going out for a drink, would you like to come?" she asked.

"I'd love to, but I have a motion hearing I have to get to," Mike said sweetly.

"Oh, that's right," Connie said, recollecting. "Good luck!"

"Thanks! And I promise I'll be here tomorrow morning," Mike said.

"I'm glad," said Connie. "See you later!"

"See you later, Connie."

They briefly kissed 'goodbye', and Connie packed up the remainder of her things into her briefcase.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Supreme Court Trial

Part 96

Langan stood to give his summation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you all have, at some point in your lives, experienced extreme emotions," he said. "Stress, sadness, anger…You have been distressed—emotionally distressed. You have all thought, said, and done things you didn't mean to. Your emotions impaired your ability to think clearly and rationally. In psychology, this is called an Amigdala Hijacking. The amigdala is the part of the brain that controls emotional responses. It triggers an immediate, impulsive, emotion-based response, trumping the part of the brain that's in charge of logic, reasoning, and judgment. This is precisely the experience my client had when he shot Gail Sullivan. He was emotionally distressed. He wasn't thinking clearly. His judgment was impaired. You heard him on the stand, clear as a bell. He will never kill again, and he never even meant to kill Gail Sullivan in the first place! He _loved_ her! This was not spite. It was impaired judgment. It was emotional distress. Because of his intense emotions, my client did something vastly out-of-character, vastly atypical of himself. He is not normally violent, and he has no criminal record. Consider that, ladies and gentlemen—consider all of that and find Eric Slater not guilty."

A tense silence permeated the courtroom.

Then Connie stood to give her summation.

"When I first took a look at this case, I was reminded of a short story I read in high school—"A Rose for Miss Emily" by William Faulkner. The story features a woman who, as we find out at the end, has killed her lover so that he will never be able to leave her. Now, there's no necrophilia going on with this case, but ladies and gentlemen, the mentality of that character is the same as that of the defendant: obsessed, possessive. It's a mentality that says, 'You are better off dead than loving someone who isn't me'. Eric Slater claims he loved Gail Sullivan, but don't let him fool you. He was obsessed with her. She ended their relationship because she felt smothered. He was possessive, clingy, controlling, and jealous. She had to get away, but he wouldn't let her. He harassed her and stalked her to the point where she was so terrified of him that she made sure he couldn't contact her online, and she planned to change her phone number. He was tormenting her so much that she was encouraged to involve the police!

"Mr. Slater claims he never meant to kill her, yet he went behind her back and found out when she would be off work. He showed up unannounced and brought his gun with him into her apartment building—three things he had _never done_ _before_—and then he fatally shot her. This is not about emotional distress. This is about anger and revenge. When Gail Sullivan dumped Eric Slater, his ego was punctured, so he had to punish her. He had to let her know that she belonged to him—that if she wasn't going to be with him, then she wasn't going to be with anyone at all. Harassment, stalking, _murder_—such hostile behavior is not indicative of someone who's in love, but of someone who is arrogant, selfish, and cruel, of someone who's a narcissist. Ladies and gentlemen, you have been given all the tools you need to get justice for Gail Sullivan. So I ask you: please use those tools—consider thoroughly all the evidence—and find Eric Slater guilty of murder."

The same tense silence overtook the courtroom again.

With that, Connie took her seat.

The jury could now begin deliberating.

###

An hour later—

"Mr. Foreman, I understand the jury has reached a verdict?" Judge McConnell asked.

The foreman of the jury stood up.

"We have, Your Honor."

Allison normally wasn't this antsy when waiting to hear a verdict—but this was her first New York trial. She was desperate to make a good first impression by getting a conviction.

Connie, meanwhile, was so antsy, it was taking her every ounce of self-control she had to sit still. Why did she feel like her competence as a prosecutor and her deserving her promotion to EADA was all riding on this case? On getting a conviction? She could feel her heart beating rapidly.

_Calm down, Connie,_ she thought to herself. _Yes, this is your first trial as EADA, and you want to win so everyone will think you're capable and worthy of the promotion, but it's okay. Not winning this won't be the end of world. It's okay. You're still smart, and you're still a good attorney. It's okay._

"On the sole count of the indictment, murder in the second degree, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant, Eric Slater, guilty."

"Very well," said the judge. "This case is closed, and the jury is dismissed with gratitude for their time and effort."

He brought down the gavel.

Allison took a deep breath.

"Oh God," she said.

"I hear you!" Connie said, knowing Allison was feeling as immensely relieved as she herself was.

Gail Sullivan's parents approached Connie and Allison.

"Thank you," Mrs. Sullivan said. "Thank you so much."

Both she and her husband had tears in their eyes.

"We are so grateful, Miss Rubirosa—Miss Barclay," Mr. Sullivan said.

"You're very welcome, both of you. We're so glad we were able to get justice for your daughter," Connie said kindly.

She and Allison each shook hands with the Sullivans before the couple exited the courtroom.

"Go team," Connie said, smiling.

"Woo hoo!" Allison joked.

"I'd say this calls for a celebration!" Connie said as they packed up their briefcases.

"I have to agree," Allison said with a smile.

Mike, Jack, Lupo, and Bernard were waiting outside the courtroom for them.

"That's what I'm talking about, Connie!" Bernard said kindly.

Connie shook hands with him, and he gave her a pat on the back.

"Thanks so much!" she said.

"Hey, you, too, Allison! Congrats!" he said.

"Thank you!" Allison said as they shook hands.

Bernard gave her a pat on the back, as well.

"B said it best, Connie," Lupo said nicely, shaking hands with her.

"That was great, Allison," he said, turning to Allison, who found herself hoping she wasn't blushing.

"Thank you," Allison said shyly.

As they shook hands, she felt her heart rate speed up a bit.

"I'm proud of you, Connie," Jack said, smiling.

"Thank you, Jack," Connie said sincerely. "That means a lot to me, it really does."

"Is it my turn yet?" Mike asked her jokingly.

"Yes," Connie said, smiling in amusement.

Mike gave her his sweetest smile (which made her blush) and embraced her. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm so happy for you, Connie," he said sweetly. "I told you you'd get a conviction."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Connie said. "It means a lot to me that you came here as often as you could to support me."

"I'm glad," Mike said. "You've always had my back. It's only right that I should return the favor."

The two of them then stood in silence, still embracing each other.

Meanwhile, Allison was chatting with Lupo and Bernard.

Suddenly—

"Allison."

Allison gave a start when Jack said her name. She turned to him, a pang of fear hitting her. What was he going to say?

"Great work," Jack said, smiling and patting her on the shoulder. "Glad to have you on board."

"Thank you!" Allison said, feeling humbled.

"You're welcome," Jack said kindly. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

Allison smiled.

Connie lifted her head up from off Mike's shoulder and leaned in so that her forehead touched his. Mike leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed him back.

After they finally broke apart, Mike asked, "Do you think you can humor me one more time by letting me buy you one more obscenely expensive dinner? I _do_ have a good reason, after all—it's congratulatory."

"Mike, you could buy me gas station coffee, and I would love it," said Connie. "What matters to me is that you've been supporting me. What means the most to me is that you're here."

"You're right. It's not about price…So how about a non-obscenely expensive dinner?" Mike said, smiling.

"That would be great," Connie said, also smiling. "You know I love spending time with you, but I have to be honest, Mike—I don't feel comfortable drinking a bottle of wine that costs more than the weekly paychecks I got while working as a waitress in law school."

"That's a really good point," Mike said.

"Are we going to celebrate over drinks?" asked Bernard.

"Allison and I figured we should," said Connie. "Care to join us, Jack?"

"Are you all going to the usual place?" asked Jack.

"Yeah," said Connie.

"Oh, what the hell," Jack said. "Count me in. But we're celebrating you and Allison, so I'll buy my own scotch."

Connie wrapped her arm around Mike's waist. He gently rested his hand on her back.

"So," said Connie. "How about we have a drink with them and then go out by ourselves?"

"I'd like that," Mike said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Surprise me," Connie said, smiling.

"With nothing obscenely expensive—got it," Mike said, smiling back.

Allison was deep in conversation with Lupo and Bernard.

"She has a lot of respect for you, you know," Connie said in an undertone to Jack.

"She knows I'm proud of her," said Jack. "I told her."

"Good," said Connie.

"But you know, she wasn't the only one who needed to have more faith in herself," Jack added pointedly to her.

"Noted," Connie said, smiling.

"Maybe since we're dating, my excess confidence will wear off on you," Mike said in an undertone to her, smirking.

Connie laughed, and Mike kissed her temple as the six of them left the courthouse for their favorite bar.

###


End file.
